


Sunlight, Moonlight

by whiskywrites



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Kissing, M/M, Present Tense, Shore Leave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 09:47:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1184787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskywrites/pseuds/whiskywrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Spock enjoy their well-deserved shore leave together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunlight, Moonlight

In the soft glow of the early morning sunlight, Jim stretches his arms up and back. His shoulders press together and his vertebrae pop pleasantly. He inhales, and exhales, and reflects on the fact that no matter how hard he tries, he still can’t bring himself to sleep in on shore leave.

The funny thing is, this time, Spock is the one sleeping in. Jim had rolled out of bed just after six and stood to the side of it glaring down at Spock, who had just rolled into the warm space left behind when Jim got up, and continued sleeping. Jim could hardly be angry about it though. Spock had had a busy past few months. They all had. Shore leave was long overdue.

Jim keeps this in mind, and doesn’t make as much noise while making the coffee as he maybe normally would.

Once the coffee is done brewing, he throws all of the curtains open, grabs a PADD, and lays on his belly in front of the large wall of windows in the living room. It’s still early and the sun continues to creep across the carpet, warming his back, but not his legs. He sets his mug on the floor in front of him and balances on his elbows, feeling the rough grain of the carpet dig into his skin. Jim reads through the news on his PADD and is almost finished with his first cup of coffee when he hears Spock open the bedroom door.

Jim keeps reading as Spock walks over, barely making noise as he moves. Spock stands next to Jim’s right shoulder, and leans down to run a hand gently through his still-messy morning hair. Jim grins and leans into the touch, humming quietly with pleasure as Spock kneads his scalp with his fingertips. He kisses Spock’s hand as it slides out of his hair, the backs of Spock’s knuckles dragging across the stubble on Jim’s cheek. Spock picks up his coffee mug and takes it into the kitchen to refill it.

Jim sighs and lays his cheek on his forearms. “You slept long this morning.”

Spock glances at the clock, and for a second Jim can’t tell if it’s a human gesture for Jim’s sake, or if Spock is genuinely checking the time. He flicks his gaze over to Jim once before bringing the teakettle to the sink to fill it for his own morning drink. “It is before seven hundred hours. That can hardly be described as ‘sleeping long.’”

Jim smiles. “You slept through me getting out of bed, though. That’s some pretty indulgent sleeping for you.”

Spock makes a small affirmative noise and brings Jim’s refilled coffee back to him. He sets it down on the floor by Jim’s elbow, and goes back into the kitchen to finish making his tea. The smell of the floral tea brewing strong the way Spock likes it mixes with the smell of the freshly poured cup of coffee sitting in front of him. It’s a metaphor, Jim thinks. It’s a good one.

Jim looks up as Spock settles cross-legged in front of him and threads his hands back through Jim’s hair. He runs his fingers between the strands and tugs gently on thick chunks of it. Jim sighs and closes his eyes. Spock is blocking the warm sunlight, but the warmth of his hands make up for what Jim is missing. Jim wiggles forward across the carpet and lays his head in Spock’s lap, feeling Spock’s hands rub down the back of his neck and settle on his shoulders.

“Perhaps I slept for longer than is typical because I am relaxed,” Spock murmurs. He takes a sip of his tea, then lays his hand back on Jim’s shoulder.

“Shore leave can do that to a person,” Jim mumbles, his mouth squished into Spock’s thigh so that his words come out barely understandable. Spock rumbles deep in his chest, the Vulcan equivalent of an indulgent chuckle. “What do you want to do today?”

Spock doesn’t answer right away. He sips more of his tea, and goes back to kneading at Jim’s neck and shoulders with firm fingertips. Eventually, he leans down and kisses the top of Jim’s head where it rests in his lap.

“Anything we want,” he replies.

*****

Later, Jim drags Spock to a local farmers market where the vendors set up flimsy stalls along the walkway of a park. It’s green and bright and there is more of that sunlight that Jim so craves whenever they come down from the ship. Spock pretends as though he would rather be doing work, but in the end he comes willingly enough, and the corners of his mouth turn up in a tiny smile as he watches Jim bounce excitedly from stall to stall.

Jim gives Spock a reusable bag to hold and stuffs it full of fresh produce. There are apples and melons, fresh berries and cucumbers and tomatoes. He picks out a couple loaves of fresh baked bread, encrusted with herbs on one side. He drags Spock over to the stall with the organic honey and teases him into sampling several of the infused flavors. Spock is the one who tucks something into their bag from this stall, a small jar of cinnamon-infused honey. Jim pretends not to notice that Spock is trying to be sneaky about it.  

“So later, I figure for dinner we can just cut up some veggies, and eat some of this bread with a little olive oil,” Jim suggests, grabbing Spock’s arm and holding the bag open to inventory everything he’s put inside it. “We can get a nice bottle of wine, and some cheese, too. Keep it simple, but sophisticated.”

Spock tugs on Jim’s arm and loops it through his own, drawing Jim close as they walk back through the park. Jim flushes and is mildly surprised at Spock’s public display of affection. Spock pats his hand. “You are taking advantage of the availability of non-replicated food, correct?”

“Correct,” Jim replies, grinning. “I’ll probably put on ten pounds before this shore leave is over.”

“Unlikely, as we only have a week’s worth of time in which to enjoy our vacation.”

“Yeah, well.” Jim tightens his grip on Spock’s arm and steers them onto the street that will lead them past the liquor store on the way back to their apartment. “I’ll do my best, won’t I?”

“Undoubtedly, Jim,” Spock says, and allows Jim to open the door to the liquor store and let him walk through first.

*****

Later, they prepare their meal in companionable silence. Spock slices the vegetables, and Jim arranges the fancy cheeses that they had purchased from the liquor store in artsy circles on a plate. The wine has been opened and is being left to sit on the counter while they slice and arrange and sneak the occasional piece to eat before everything is finished being laid out. As Jim fusses with his cheese plate, Spock slips behind him and wraps his arms around Jim’s waist. Jim sets down the knife and closes his eyes, slipping his fingers over Spock’s where they rest low on his belly.

Jim sighs deeply as Spock kisses firmly down the side of his neck and splays his hands wide on Jim’s belly, pressing him close. He nips lightly at the exposed sliver of Jim’s shoulder, a barely-there graze of teeth and then a soothing of his lips against the same spot. Jim turns in his arms to face him, sliding his hands up Spock’s chest and back around his neck to cradle the base of his skull.

“You aren’t supposed to have dessert before you eat dinner,” Jim whispers. He leans forward and presses his lips to Spock’s, lingering only a few seconds before leaning back again. Spock leans after him just a bit before he catches himself. His gaze flicks up from Jim’s lips to his eyes, and he has the grace to look slightly bashful. Jim chuckles and presses their foreheads together briefly before letting his hands fall to Spock’s waist. He pushes at him, firm but gentle, and Spock’s arms fall from Jim’s waist as he turns back to slicing his vegetables.

*****

When the plates are mostly cleared of the carefully prepared food and they’ve worked their way through most of a bottle of wine, Jim scoots across the couch and swings one leg over Spock’s lap, straddling him and sliding his hands into his silky dark hair. Spock tilts his head into Jim’s hands and lets his eyes fall half closed, his lips parted, ready to be kissed. Jim leans forward and obliges him, sliding his lips along Spock’s and tightening his grip in his hair.

Spock pulls away and whispers against Jim’s lips. “We have eaten dinner, Jim.”

Jim laughs. “So it must be time for dessert?”

“Affirmative,” Spock replies, pressing his mouth back to Jim’s. Jim strokes Spock’s lower lip with the tip of his tongue, sliding it into his mouth when Spock’s lips part further. He tastes like blackberries and rich red wine. Jim hums happily and sucks on Spock’s tongue. Spock slides his hands around Jim’s hips and pulls him closer, breaking their kiss and leaning back to speak to Jim.

“Would you like to go into the bedroom?”

Jim smiles at him and looks around the living room, considering. The curtains are still open on the large windows, and he can just barely see the view through the glare from the living room lights. He tilts his head contemplatively.

“Hang on,” Jim says, getting up off of Spock’s lap and walking over to the controls for the lights. He lowers them almost completely and grins when he turns to see that the view out the window is now perfect. He picks up a blanket from the back of the couch and lays it out on the carpeted floor in front of the windows, close by the same spot where he had been laying that morning. It isn’t the softest of places to sit, but the atmosphere is perfect. He sits down and pats the spot next to him, grinning up at Spock.

Spock stands and walks the few steps to the blanket before lowering himself onto his knees beside Jim. He leans forward and takes Jim’s hand, stroking his fingers with his own in a gentle kiss. They gaze at each other and the moment is suspended in the diffused light that filters in through the open window.

“Your eyes in the moonlight, sweetheart,” Jim murmurs, stroking his thumb over Spock’s cheekbone.

“A clichéd Terran romantic trope,” Spock comments, his own thumb rubbing circles into the palm of Jim’s hand.

“I’m full of ‘em.”

“Indeed. Here, then?” Spock gestures to the blanket.

“Yeah. Here,” Jim murmurs, twining his hand in the front of Spock’s shirt and pulling him close.

“Your back will ache.”

“Don’t care,” Jim responds, kissing the corner of Spock’s mouth. “We can see the stars through the window.”

Spock falls forward onto his hands and knees and crawls over Jim’s body. Their chests press together, and Spock’s mouth falls against Jim’s neck. He can feel Spock’s eyelashes tickling against the skin just below his ear.  Jim inhales, and exhales, and allows himself to be pressed down into the blanket. The moonlight filters over them and Jim feels that despite his inability to sleep in, this shore leave will be just fine.  

**Author's Note:**

> My kingdom for a bottle of Argentinian Malbec and some warm crusty bread. Happy Valentine's Day, friends.


End file.
